Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

ARTHUR

The unmistakable sound of a throat clearing had me lifting my head, my gaze locking with a pair of striking golden eyes across the embers. Lancelot sat up with his arms draped over his bent knees, his expression unreadable as he watched us with an intensity that made my skin prickle.

"Well," he drawled, his deep voice rougher than usual. "That was quite the show."

Mortification washed over me, heat flooding my cheeks. Scrambling off of Percival, I grabbed for the tattered remains of my tunic, trying in vain to cover up. There was rage in Lancelot’s eyes. The heat of lust and desire too, yes, but rage burned brighter. Did he really hate me that much?

Slowly, I rose to my feet, not bothering to cover my nudity. Let him look his fill, see what his cold disdain and rejection would miss out on since he seemed to want nothing to do with me. I met his gaze head on, refusing to cower.

"If you have something to say, Lancelot, then say it.”

He rose to his feet in one fluid motion, prowling towards me like a great cat stalking its prey. The firelight danced over the sculpted planes of his bare chest, his golden hair burnished to a fiery halo. He was terrifyingly beautiful, like a lion.

"I have quite a lot to say, actually," he growled, coming to a stop mere inches from me. I could feel the heat pouring off his body, the barely leashed power thrumming beneath his skin. "Starting with how spectacularly stupid it was to let down your guard like that."

I bristled at his tone, at the implication that I was some witless maiden who didn't know her own mind. "I wasn't letting down my guard. I was taking what I wanted. There's a difference."

Lancelot's eyes narrowed dangerously as he loomed over me. "Taking what you wanted? And did you spare a single thought for the consequences? For how this could affect the quest, the group dynamics?"

His words stung, but I refused to let it show. Lifting my chin defiantly, I glared right back at him. "I am not some delicate flower, Lancelot. Nor am I a child in need of coddling. Who I choose to fuck is my business and mine alone."

"Not when it puts everything we've worked for at risk!" he snarled, his hand shooting out to grip my upper arm. His touch burned like a brand, sending a shock of awareness straight to my core. "You are the heir apparent, Arthur. Your life, your choices, they matter more than some fleeting pleasure."

As I ripped myself out of his grasp, my anger ignited like a blazing fire. “You have no right to judge me or dictate what I do with my body. I am not some object for you to control or be disgusted by just because you’re so unhappy with your own life. I will make my own choices without your approval.”

Lancelot's eyes flashed, his jaw clenching as he took a step closer, invading my personal space. "You think this is about control? About disgust?" he demanded, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "I am trying to protect you, Arthur. From yourself and the consequences of your reckless actions."

"I don't need your protection! As if I’m some fragile fucking girl. I am the heir to Camelot's throne, and I will not be lectured by the likes of you."

His hand shot out, fisting in my tangled curls as he yanked my head back, forcing me to meet his blazing gaze. "The likes of me?" he growled, his face a breath from mine. "And what exactly is that, my lady? A fae brute?"

“Yes,” I hissed, trying to ignore the sudden heat that rolled through me at the grip of my hair in his fist.

Percival’s shadows were there in an instant, wrapping around Lancelot. He struggled against their hold, his muscles straining, but Percival's power was too strong.

"Release me," Lancelot snarled, his gaze darting between Percival and me. "This is between the two of us."

"I don't think so," Percival said coolly, coming to stand at my side. His shadows writhed and pulsed, ready to strike at a moment's notice. "You remember our conversation last night, don’t you, Lance? She gets to choose. Not us."

My gaze bounced between both men. What conversation? Choose what?

I opened my mouth, a sharp retort on the tip of my tongue, when a flicker of movement caught my eye. My head snapped towards the mouth of the cave, every sense suddenly on high alert. Lancelot and Percival must have sensed it too, because they both went utterly still, their gazes fixed on the inky darkness.

Slowly, I reached for Excalibur lying on the bedroll; the sword seemed to hum with anticipation as my fingers closed around the hilt. The blade flared to life, casting an ethereal glow that pushed back the shadows, illuminating the jagged rock walls in shimmering golden light.

Lancelot and Percival flanked me, their own weapons drawn and at the ready. The red ruby in the pommel of Lancelot's sword glinted like a drop of blood, while Percival's obsidian daggers seemed to drink in the light, their edges razor sharp.

We waited, barely daring to breathe, as the sounds of footsteps echoed from the mouth of the cave. Multiple sets, if I had to guess.

Just as the tension reached a breaking point, four familiar figures emerged from the gloom. Relief crashed through me, so intense it left me light-headed. I lowered Excalibur, the blade's light dimming as my racing heart began to slow.

Gawain, Galahad, Merlin, and Tristan moved into the light of the fire. A smile tugged at my lips despite the lingering adrenaline. “I almost gutted you all. Announce yourselves next time!”

Gawain grinned, his steel-gray eyes glinting with mischief in the soft light. "Apologies, my lady. We didn't mean to startle you." His gaze flicked over my bare skin, one dark brow arching. "Though it seems we may have interrupted something...interesting."

My eyes locked with Merlin’s as he, too, took in my disheveled appearance in just a tunic and nothing else. If this had happened two days ago, I might have felt guilty, but after the things Mordred had said, I couldn’t muster up an ounce of shame.

There was hurt in Merlin’s blue eyes. He knew exactly what had happened here, and I had a feeling he knew about Gawain too.

Merlin's expression was shuttered, his mouth pressed into a grim line as he surveyed the scene. I sensed his disappointment radiating off him in waves. "Perhaps," he said, his voice deceptively calm, "we should all take a moment to compose ourselves. Dawn will be here in a few hours, and we have a long day ahead of us."

"Merlin—"

He held up a hand, stopping me in my tracks. "Not now, Arthur. We have more pressing concerns at the moment." He then tossed me my pack, telling me they must have gone back to the horses before coming here, and I was so grateful. I sagged with relief as I caught it.

I wanted to push, to force the issue and clear the air between us. But I knew he was right.

With a curt nod, I turned away, heading to the privacy of the darkness to slip my clothing on and cover up as much as I could manage. I felt the weight of everyone's stares, the unspoken questions and judgments hanging thick in the air.

Warm around the fire, the men listened as I recounted what the orb had said to me, once again repeating the riddle word for word, as if it was seared into my brain.

“How did you know where to find the orb?” Merlin asked, not meeting my eyes. He just stared into the fire blankly.

“I’m not sure,” I said, rubbing my chest. “I felt a tugging sensation, and it’s like the rest of the world went silent. The same thing happened when I found the wooden box in the boneyard. It’s like I’m drawn to the magic and it wants me to find it.” I looked up, meeting Lancelot’s eyes. “Was it like this for the others?”

He shook his head, running a palm over the lower half of his face. “No. There was no magic involved. They were mortal kings, and none of them had Excalibur. For them, it was more like a hunt, but the trials never presented themselves the way they have for you.”

I sat back, letting that sink in. I was different, marked by magic in a way no other ruler of Camelot had been before. It was both exhilarating and terrifying.

"So what now?" Percival asked, his brow furrowed with concern. "We have a cryptic riddle and no clear direction."

"Do you recognize where it wants us to go?" I asked hopefully. "The riddle mentioned a bridge of shadow and a chasm of secrets.”

“I think it's referring to Dead Man’s Path,” Tristan said.

I sat up straighter, my curiosity piqued. "Dead Man's Path? I've never heard of it."

His eyes were distant, as if recalling a long-forgotten memory. "It's an ancient stone bridge that spans a vast chasm."

"Sounds like the perfect place for the next trial," Gawain chimed in.

"But why is it called Dead Man's Path?" I asked.

Tristan's expression darkened. "They say the souls of those who have fallen while attempting to cross haunt the bridge."

"That has to be it then. If the riddle points to Dead Man's Path, the magic will show me the way there."

“This is new territory for us too,” Tristan said. “It’s like the quest itself is responding to you, Arthur. Unlike the kings that came before you.”

We sat in silence for a while, everyone lost in thought. I couldn’t fall back asleep if I tried, though I was exhausted.

Merlin shifted, drawing my attention. His blue eyes were clouded, his expression unreadable as he stared into the dancing flames. The firelight cast shadows across his angular features, highlighting the tension in his jaw.

"Arthur," he said, his voice low and curt, "I think it's time we address the elephant in the room."

My stomach clenched, a sense of doom washing over me. I knew that tone, the carefully controlled calm that would rupture at any moment. "And what elephant would that be, Merlin?" I asked, trying for a lightness I didn't feel.

His gaze snapped to mine. "Do you intend to fuck every one of your knights?"

Gawain choked on a cough, while Lancelot and Percival both went utterly still beside me. "I beg your finest pardon?"

Merlin leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he fixed me with a look that seemed to strip me bare. "You heard me. First Gawain, now Percival. Is Lancelot next on your list? Or maybe you'll just work your way through the entire Round Table before we even reach the Grail."

His words cut deep, slicing through me like Excalibur itself. I recoiled as if he'd physically struck me, my heart constricting painfully.

"How dare you," I whispered, my voice trembling. "As if I'm some whore spreading my legs for anyone who asks."

Merlin's eyes flashed, his mouth twisting into a bitter smile. "If the shoe fits, my lady."

Percival shot to his feet, shadows swirling around him like a cloak. "Watch your tongue, wizard," he snarled. "Or I'll remove it for you."

Lancelot rose as well, placing a restraining hand on Percival's chest. "Enough," he said, his voice hard as steel. "This bickering solves absolutely nothing."

I stood slowly, my fists clenched at my sides. Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to let them fall, to let Merlin see how deeply his cruel accusations cut me.

"Who I decide to fuck is none of your concern, Merlin," I said, my voice shaking with the effort to keep it steady. "Not anymore. You lost the right to care about me the moment I found out the secrets you’ve been keeping. If I want to mount and fuck every knight around this fire right now and make you watch, then I will.”

Merlin's face drained of color, his eyes widening in shock before narrowing into icy slits. "You would throw yourself at them just to spite me? To punish me for trying to protect you?"

A harsh laugh ripped from my throat, ugly and bitter. "Protect me? Is that what you call it? Lying to me, manipulating me, using my feelings for you against me?"

"Everything I've done has been for you, Arthur. To keep you safe, to prepare you for your destiny."

"Bullshit," I spat. "You've been using me to test out some ancient prophecy, playing your cryptic druid games. Well, it’s not amusing anymore. Keeping me in the dark while you pull the strings from the shadows only tells me I can’t trust you."

Merlin shot to his feet, his hands balled into fists at his sides. Magic crackled around him, making the hairs on my arms stand on end. "You have no idea what I've sacrificed for you! The lengths I've gone to ensure your survival!"

"Then tell me!" I shouted, hot tears finally spilling down my cheeks. "Stop with the cryptic warnings and half-truths. If you truly care for me, then be honest with me for once in your miserable fucking life!"

He stared at me, chest heaving, blue eyes blazing with a maelstrom of emotions I couldn't even begin to decipher.

For a long moment, the only sound was the crackling of the fire and our ragged breathing. The other knights watched in tense silence, their gazes darting between us. Finally, Merlin's shoulders slumped, the fight seeming to drain out of him. He ran a hand over his face, suddenly looking far older than his years.

"You're right," he said quietly, his voice rough with exhaustion and something that sounded suspiciously like regret. "You deserve the truth. All of it."

I blinked, taken aback by his sudden capitulation. I’d expected more resistance, more evasion and misdirection. But as I searched his face, I saw only weariness and a bone-deep sorrow that made my heart ache despite my anger.

Slowly, I sank back down onto my bedroll, never taking my eyes off Merlin. "Then talk," I said, my voice softening slightly. "No more lies, no more secrets. Just the truth, Merlin."

He nodded, taking a deep breath as if steeling himself. "The prophecies about you, about the once and future king, are more complex than I let on."

I frowned but remained silent, letting him gather his thoughts.

"Your birth was foretold centuries ago. A child born of both worlds, destined to unite Albion and Avalon and usher in an age of peace." That part. I already knew, but he continued. “Our world and Avalon aren’t just connected. They overlap perfectly. An exact mirror image. With the right magic, you can access Avalon from anywhere. Some are born with the ability to feel the world on top of a world, and sense the spots where the veil is the thinnest. Those people are called sorcerers, or druids, like me.”

"So all this time, you've been able to just...step into Avalon? Whenever you wanted?" I asked.

Merlin nodded. "Yes. It's how I've been able to gather information and study magic without Uther knowing. But crossing between worlds comes at a price."

He absently rubbed his chest, as if remembering an old wound. "Each time a sorcerer passes through the veil, it takes a toll. Physically and mentally. Spend too long in Avalon, and you risk losing yourself entirely to the potent magic there. Gaius trained me, ever since he discovered what I was. He taught me the prophecy of the once and future king, told me it was our duty to find the child of destiny and protect them at all costs."

“So the orphanage…Were you lying to me then? When you told me your parents were taken in the fire that killed mine, were you lying?”

Half our village lost their parents that night, and many of the children placed in the orphanage had been my friends. But Merlin had been a stranger.

Merlin's expression turned pained, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "No, Arthur. That part was true. My mother did die in that fire, along with so many others. But what I didn't tell you is that the fire wasn’t just a random accident.”

Something ugly twisted in my stomach at the haunted look in Merlin’s eyes. Something wasn’t right. I knew Merlin better than I knew myself sometimes, and everything inside me was screaming that what he was about to tell me would shatter my world. I almost wanted to run from the cave. Run from him. Run from any more truths I never wanted.

Merlin took a shuddering breath, his hands trembling as he clasped them tightly in his lap. "The fire that night, the one that claimed so many lives, was started by you."

The world seemed to tilt on its axis, his accusation hitting me like a physical blow. I stared at him, my mouth opening and closing soundlessly as I tried to process the enormity of what he'd just said.

"That's not possible," I finally managed, my voice little more than a choked whisper. "I was just a child. How could I have...?" I couldn't even bring myself to say it out loud, the very idea too horrific to contemplate.

"You were a child, yes," he said softly, his eyes filled with grief. "But you were also so much more than that already. Your magic was strong even then. Stronger than anything I'd ever seen."

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he fixed me with an intense, almost pleading gaze. "That night, mercenaries from Avalon broke into your home. They were sent to kill you before you could fulfill the prophecy, before you could become the threat they feared."

I shook my head, denying his words even as a sickening sense of certainty settled into my bones. "No. No, that can't be true. My parents died protecting me from the fire. They weren't?—”

Merlin's voice was gentle, almost apologetic, as he continued. "Your parents did die protecting you. But not from the fire itself. They stood between you and the mercenaries, refusing to let them harm you. And that's when your magic awakened."

He paused, his gaze distant as if lost in the memory. "It was like nothing I've ever seen before or since, and I was barely a boy. It was a burst of pure, raw power that incinerated the mercenaries where they stood."

I sat frozen, horror and disbelief warring within me. I wanted to deny it, to scream that it was all a lie. But deep down, in a place I'd long tried to bury, I knew he spoke the truth. Flashes of memory assaulted me—the acrid stench of burning flesh, the searing heat of flames licking at my skin, my mother's terrified face illuminated by an otherworldly glow.

"The fire spread quickly," Merlin continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "Fueled by your magic and the dry summer air, it consumed everything in its path. Houses, crops, livestock...and people. But it happened so fast there was no stopping it."

I was aware that I was unraveling. My stomach churned violently, and I lurched to my feet, staggering away from the fire, away from the knights and their shocked, pitying gazes.

I made it only a few steps before my knees buckled and I collapsed, retching onto the cold stone floor. Sobs tore from my throat, ugly and wretched, as I curled in on myself. The memories assaulted me now, no longer content to linger in the shadows of my mind.

Screams of terror and agony. The sickening stench of charred flesh. Flames climbing higher and higher, painting the night sky an ominous orange. And at the center of it all, a child with glowing eyes and magic pouring from her fingertips.

Me. I had done this. I had orphaned my friends, destroyed my village, murdered my own parents. All because I couldn't control the cursed power inside me.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I choked out, lifting my tear-stained face to look at Merlin. He had followed me, kneeling just out of reach with a stricken expression. "All these years, you knew what I'd done. What I was. Why keep it from me?"

“Because that’s the thing—I didn’t know. Not until the day we left Camelot. Gaius took you from those flames. He’s been watching you ever since. But it wouldn’t have changed anything, Arthur. Even if I’d known I wouldn’t have said a word.” He reached out as if to touch me, but let his hand fall short, curling it into a fist at his side. "I would have wanted to protect you from that pain, from the guilt I knew would consume you if you remembered. You’d already lost so much that night."

I shook my head, a bitter laugh bubbling up my raw throat. "So instead Gaius lied to me? And you’ve had all this time to tell me, and kept silent? Secrets never stay buried. I thought you, of all people, were smart enough to know that."

Merlin flinched, but I couldn't find it in myself to regret it. The betrayal cut deep, made all the more painful by the love I still held for him despite everything. Why did I have to feel like this about him? Why did I still love him?

"I'm so fucking sorry," he whispered, his voice cracking on my name. "I thought I was doing what was best for you.”

I pushed myself to my feet, wiping angrily at the tears that wouldn't seem to stop falling. "You took my choice away. My right to know the truth about myself, about what I'd done. I may have been a child then, but I’ve been a woman for a long time. Gaius had no right, and you should have run to me the second you knew. It’s what I would have done for you. You’ve had plenty of time to break it to me like the friend I thought you were.”